Caught Like a Fly
by A.V.A.OCTOBER
Summary: Not once did it pass my clouded mind, but as the busy city streets bustled with the ever-changing people, the lights blinding, my heart was pounding, and I was frozen by these new-found feelings that restricted my breathing and weighed down on my once cold heart. As Tokyo hummed with blissful ignorance and oblivious excitment, I fell in love with the information broker once again.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1 – The Streets of Ikebukero:

It was twilight in Ikebukero; a tall, fair haired man was moving silently down an alleyway, a cigarette placed between his lips. His hair was messy, and his eyes were shielded by the blue lenses of a pair of sunglasses that rested atop his nose. His black vest and button up fit his tall, lean figure perfectly without any effort on his part. As he stalked down the alley he looked unusually handsome, and just as out of place.

The surrounding pedestrians tried to keep their distances, whispering amongst each other. "Th-That's - " "Isn't he that one actor's brother-?" "-Never want to piss him off-" "-Part of The Dollars?-" " – Shizuo? In the Dollars? – "

The fair haired man thought diligently as he walked, growling impatiently as his phone began to beep loudly. With a grumble, he disregarded the message, and returned to his deep train of thought. Within a few seconds the beeping started a second time and he begrudgingly pulling it from his pocket, his eyes scanning over the email.

Suddenly, a cool voice sounded from behind him. "Oh, hello, Shizuo. What a pleasant surprise. `Didn't expect to see you here today."

Unintentionally, Shizuo's cigarette snapped between his fingers. He grunted and stomped on the discarded remains, whirring around just as a lanky figure emerged from the shadows. The man was clad in mostly black, aside from the tan fur that puffed out of his jacket sleeves. The dark of his hair and clothing contrasted with his pale skin greatly and his violet eyes shimmered with excitement and mischief. He smirked as Shizuo's gaze fell upon him and shoved his hands into his pockets.

"IZAYA!" Shizuo snarled as he reached for a nearby dumpster, and, with a determined grunt, flung it towards the opposing man.

Izaya jumped out of the way effortlessly. "Now, that's no way to treat and old friend, now is it, _Shizu-chan_?"

"I'm going to kill you!" He said as he lunged at Izaya. The man dodged it just fast enough for Shizuo's fist to plow into the dumpster where he once was. A look of surprise over-took the blonds usually emotionless face.

"Up here, Shizu-chan." Izaya sang from where he was perched upon the dumpster, his legs crossed and a blade zigzagging between his fingers.

Shizuo lifted the dumpster once again and Izaya bound off, landing beside him gracefully. "What makes you think I'm not here to make amends, Shizu-chan?"

Shizuo angrily threw it at him again.

"Whoa," Izaya chuckled as he leaped up onto the flying dumpster and off, crouching in the same spot he was before.

"I-" A horse's eerie cry cut Shizuo's response off.

"Hmm? Sounds like Celty's on her way. I better get going. It was nice seeing you, Shizu-chan." His voice was thick with sarcasm.

"Izaya! You're not getting off that easy!"

A black motorcycle sped down the alley and both boys looked. The bike was quiet, followed only by the sound of hooves on pavement and another ghostly cry.

The rider jerked the handle bars, and slammed on the breaks, screeching to a halt right in front of Shizuo. The curves of her body through her black, leather suit made it painfully obvious that she was a woman, and a beautiful one at that. Her getup covered her entire body, from the yellow helmet on her head to her booted feet and her glove tipped fingers. Staring into the large, tinted lens of the helmet was like staring into a bottomless pit; dark, empty. She dismounted and put her hand on her hip.

Shizuo looked over to the other man, but he had already vanished, he could hear Izaya's laughter echoing off the walls as he left. He cussed under his breath and looked over to the motorcyclist with a grim expression. "Hey, Celty."

She pulled out her phone and began to type something. Shizuo waited patiently for her to finish. When she did, she held the phone out so he could see what it said.

_Hey, are you alright?_

"Yeah," He looked after Izaya again. "I swear I'm going to kill him." He grumbled.

Celty typed something again.

_Well, as long as you're alright. We should get going though, who knows when the cops will show up. Those guys are getting really tough. _

"Yeah, I heard some new guy just transferred to the Ikebukero station."

She nodded, and a black helmet appeared in her hand. It seemed to manifest out of her shadow.

He took it and put it on as Celty began to type again.

_Do you want me to take you to Shinra to get that fixed up?_

He slid onto the bike behind her. "Get what-" Before he could finish a glint of silver caught his eye. There, just above his elbow, one of Izaya's silver knives protruded out of his flesh, dying his sleeve crimson with blood. "Damn," He said sourly. "I didn't notice. Izaya must have done this before he left."

Celty nodded and revved her bite, but instead of the sound of an engine, a horse screamed, and the bike took off.

They arrived minutes later, Shizuo diligently examining the damage the knife inflicted on him – before getting off the small bike and staring up at the large, and extremely modern apartment building before them.

Celty took her helmet back, and pushed her bike into the elevator, Shizuo following quietly, constantly checking the knife that was still half in his flesh. He was caught off guard when Celty's phone was thrust into his face.

_Don't you want to take that thing out?_

He shook his head. "It'll only bleed more if I take it out. I'll let Shinra take care of that."

She nodded and clicked one of the buttons that were aligned on the wall of the elevator.

"So what's up between you and Shinra, anyway?"

She seemed startled.

_N-Nothing! What makes you think there's something?! I don't know what you're talking about_, she typed hastily.

Shizuo laughed. "I knew it."

Celty shook her head briskly and squeezed her handlebars even tighter.

The elevator stopped with a jolt and the doors opened. Shizuo invited himself in carelessly as Celty put her bike away.

"Oh, Celty! You're home!" Shinra said from down the hall. "Come to bed why don't you darling!?"

"Pervert." Shizuo murmured, shoving his hands into his pockets. "It's me!" He shouted.

"Ah, Shizuo!" Shinra appeared in the hallway with a lousy grin. "I thought you were the love of my life." He added dreamily, clasping his hands together in front of him and staring into space.

"The love of your life, eh?" He arched an eyebrow.

"So what are you here for?" Shinra pushed his glasses higher up on his nose.

Shizuo motioned to his bloody arm. "I had a little run in with Izaya Orihara. He-" The door opened behind him, cutting him off in mid sentence.

"Celty!" Shinra yelled happily. "My love!"

Celty removed her helmet revealing, well, nothing. There was no head atop her shoulders like normal human beings. Instead, a small stream of black fog rose out of the empty hole on the base of her neck. She unzipped the collar of her leather suit and approached Shinra swiftly, jabbing him in the ribs as she did so.

Shinra doubled over, clutching his stomach with a small smirk. "That's my Celty, always so feisty."

Shizuo plopped down on the couch and Shinra followed with his medical supplies. After Shizuo told him what happened he seemed to beam. "You truly are amazing, Shizuo! The thought that your mind has allowed to you tap into all your strength is astonishing!" He pulled out a scalpel. "Is there any way you'll let me dissect you per chance?"

Shizuo grabbed Shinra's wrist tightly, his face free of emotion.

"O-Ow. Your grips a little tight, Shizuo."

Celty sat beside him quickly and began to type.

_Shizuo, you don't have to do that, Shinra was just kidding! _

Shizuo sighed and released Shinra who wiped the sweat from his forehead with a sheepish laugh, and continued to clean his wounds. "So, this is Izaya Orihara's doing?"

"The next time Izaya dares to show his face in Ikebukero again, I'll kill him! Kill-kill-kill-kill-kill…"

Shinra laughed nervously. "Uh… Are you alright, Shizuo?"

"Kill-kill-kill-kill…"

Shizuo tugged down his sleeve to cover his bandages as he left Celty and Shinra's apartment. Yet again, his thoughts were extremely fuzzy. There was only one place he could go to ease his confusion. It was the only thing he could think of clearly.

Meanwhile, Celty fired up her bike and took it out for another transporting job for, ironically enough, Izaya, who had contacted her just after their confrontation earlier. Other than the fact that Celty's jobs only called for favors after twilight, riding at night was Celty's favorite; She liked the coolness of the night time, and the way the moon made her feel. She liked the way Ikebukuro looked at night – The lights – The people – the gatherings.

For this certain job, she was to pick up a young boy and bring him to Izaya's; a boring and low paying job usually, but this time, it could be interesting. She knew the boy she was bringing over, but she wanted to find out why Izaya needed him, or why he needed Izaya. She was pretty sure that they weren't on talking terms anymore… or were they?

When she found the street she was looking for she pulled to the side and scanned the crowds.

Masaomi Kida was perched at the corner, leaning carelessly against a street sign – one of the few that hadn't been dislocated by Shizuo – his hands shoved coolly into his pockets.

"Oh, hi, Celty. Wassup?" In response she handed him a black helmet, and pulled out her phone.

_What business do you have with Izaya?_

A grave expression overcame Masaomi's goofy smile. "Just talking something's out." He smiled slightly, his posture becoming mysterious yet laid back. "Stop worrying, Celty, I just need some information."

_Well, obviously, but why? What's it for._

He didn't respond with words, but instead climbed onto the back of the bike soundlessly, hinting that the conversation was over.

Celty sighed and gunned the throttle, taking off with the ghostly neighing echoing loudly through the streets.

"Tell me!" Masaomi yelled, slamming his fist down on Izaya's desk.

"Why are you getting so angry?" Izaya chortled, spinning in his office chair playfully. "She says you never visit her anymore, she can see you just outside the hospital, but you never go it. Now why is that, Kida?"

Masaomi's brows furrowed and he stared out the window just beyond Izaya's desk. With a dramatic sigh, he spun on his heels and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Because I love her." He mumbled.

"What was that? I didn't quite hear." Izaya said with a smirk.

"Because I love her!" Masaomi shouted, again facing him. "And I don't want anything bad to happen to her ever again! I can't live with myself after that incident. _I caused her suffering!_" He added desperately, sinking to his knees in despair. "Whenever I see her, I see what I've done. I can't live with that. Please just tell me how she is."

Izaya spun in his chair once more, pressing his finger tips together in a curious way, before standing and approaching Masaomi. "Then how about," he started, his voice turning frighteningly sinister. "I help you get back at the Blue Squares?"

"No!" He said immediately. "I'm _not_ a Yellow Scarf. All that's behind me now." He said gravely.

"You don't have to be a gang member to get back at a group who harmed the person closest to you." He paused for a moment, and when Masaomi said nothing, Izaya started again, "So," He said, holding out his hand to him. "What do you say? I give you what you need to get back at them and for only a few thousand yen. _Justify what they did to her_."

Masaomi hesitated before slowly and reluctantly raising his hand to Izaya's. "Deal."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 – The Red Hearts:

Shizuo looked out over the smooth, crystal clear water coldly. His brother was there, on the water's surface. The ripples altered Kasuka Hewajima, making him look imperfect – flawed, something you could only find in this reflection. Perhaps Shizuo came here to think often just because of that. There were pictures of Kasuka everywhere in Toyko, but he appeared flawless in all of them. Here, Shizuo could see the imperfections of his brother – he didn't care that they were just illusions. Here he could think clearly. He turned and faced the real Kasuka Hewajima, who posed on the billboard just behind the harbor. Soon, he would be painted over and Shizuo would have to find another thinking place.

"_Oh, Shizu-chan!_"

Now Shizuo was really angry. Not here. Not now. Not when he was _really_ thinking. That was something you just didn't do.

"IZAYA!" He whirled, finding his archenemy just to his left.

"Ever conversation starts the same. Don't you ever get tired of it?"

Shizuo froze, the stop sign he had just tore from the Earth, poised in his strong, long fingers. "No." He said shortly before advancing on Izaya, ready to hit a homerun with his face. Izaya ducked underneath the sign and sprang up, whipping out his knives as he did so. After a few more swings Shizuo ended up lodging his sign deep into the ground. With a determined grunt he attempted to pull it from its deep, cool imprisonment, to no prevail.

Izaya peeked out from behind a dumpster he had hid behind last minute. Watching Shizuo struggle with the sign, he realized that this would be his golden moment. Izaya approached him with a cool demeanor, casually slipping his least favorite of the two knives back into his pocket, and playing with the other. With one quick movement of his wrist, Izaya pressed the cool, shimmering blade to Shizuo's throat. He flashed an insane wink, and in return, Shizuo growled up at him, hesitant to move against the blade that was already biting into his flesh, bringing small dots of crimson to the base of his neck.

"Oh, Shizu-chan, I'd really hate to kill you."He leaned in inches from Shizuo's face. "Truth is, I'd like to ask something of you."

Masaomi walked slowly, counting each and every step he took mindlessly. Why had he gone to Izaya? What had he done? There was no taking it back now. He had returned, almost fully, to his old ways. But somewhere, deep inside him, he knew that it was right. They would pay now. Revenge would be exacted properly. Mikado had convinced him that he had already done it quite nicely, but he knew it wasn't enough. They're still around, the Blue Squares, strutting their stuff like they're Gods, while the person he loved was unable to walk forever.

Of course they weren't called the Blue Squares anymore. He had disbanded that gang, but Izaya claimed they had regrouped under another alias. The Red Hearts. Masaomi's slender hands balled into fists. He would do all he could to eliminate _every single one_.

Suddenly, he realized that the dull brown hospital was looming over him like an ominous shadow. How did he get here? It was a question he couldn't answer himself. He had been walking, just walking with no intent on going anywhere – especially _here_, of all places where the girl he loved was still recovering from his stupid mistake.

_Sixth up, two over_. He found her window effortlessly. And there she was, brown eyes looking down at him with the sorrow of a thousand heartbreaks. Masaomi gasped. She had seen him. Damn it! She had seen him.

Suddenly, his legs were moving, taking him away from that retched place that made him remember all that he had done. He saw the grass pass his feet, and then the street. Cars honked and slammed on their breaks as he passed - never looking up – never hesitating. He didn't care if he was killed then. Didn't give a care in the whole damn world what happened. What he didn't notice though, was Celty, who watched him flee from his past, as she wove in and out of the traffic. She slammed on the breaks, concerned, and turned to follow him.

Mikado's fingers ran over the keyboard with quick precise movements. Every member of the Dollars would get the mass email he was sending out. Word on the street was that a new color gang was forming and they were up to no good. The message wasn't anything, but a warning. The Red Hearts were coming, and they were lusty for the blood of _any_ former Yellow Squares they could find. It was obvious that they were the remnants of the Blue Squares, looking for revenge on Masaomi, but he excluded that part. It would be best if Masomi stayed out of this business completely. Hopefully, Mikado thought, as he sent the email, he would be smart and hide. There must be a few dozen hits hanging over his dear friend's blond head.

Something came in contact with Shizuo's face. He didn't have to see to know who those lips belonged to. Soft, thin, aggressive. These were the lips of Izaya Orihara.

Suddenly, Shizuo was reliving a memory from long ago. It was the beginning of a never ending grudge. He could never shake the memories – they would always prowl the back of his mind like a deadly predator, waiting for the right moment to strike – make him relive those horrible moments. This was a definite kill-shot. He reeled. Shizuo was already cursed to live with this nightmare, and now it was coming back to life.

He had kissed these lips before.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 – A horrible Memory; Relived!

Masaomi was running really running blindly now. He stumbled into a cement tunnel, his booted feet noisily splashing the muddy water up onto his jeans. He rested against the cool wall, gripping his racing heart and attempting to catch his shallow breaths.

_Sweet sanctuary. _

Suddenly, there was a familiar nose. A horse and the gunning of the engine. Not to his surprise, Celty putted in after him and pulled out her phone with an obvious urgency.

_"Kida! Are you ok?! When I saw you stampede through the street like that, I got worried."_

"I'm fine!" He responded, smacking her phone away. "I don't need your assistance with anything, Celty, now if you'd just leave me alone."

"Now, now." A sadistic voice sang from the entrance of the tunnel. "That's no way to talk to a lady."

Masaomi growled. This was the last person he wanted to see at the moment. "Get out of here, Izaya. Nobody asked for you to show."

A look of false surprise crossed Izaya's face. "Is that how you going to treat me after I did such a big favor for you, Masaomi? Tsk, tsk. Children these days." He shook his head and smirked at Celty's apparent confusion.

With a rigid back, she began to type quickly, and shoved the screen in both boy's face.

"_What? A – A deal?" _

"It's none of your business, Celty." Kida responded, glancing away coldly.

Izaya's smirk grew. When Celty turned to him for an answer, he chuckled and began walking away. "Well, I'm off to ruin Shizu-chan's day! Have fun, you two!"

"_Wait!"_ Celty typed.

"I'm sorry, but I can't! There's a perfectly happy Shizuo out there just calling for me to ruin his day!" And with that he was gone, leaving Celty and Masaomi in perfect silence.

It was middle school. Eighth grade to be exact. Shizuo was young – lost really, as most junior high students are. He didn't know who he was. He wasn't his brother – flawless, stunning, calm – that wasn't him. He was angry, always. These idiots – they just knew how to really piss him off. This was the year he met Izaya Orihara, perhaps the best at it.

The problem was that Izaya wasn't an idiot. He couldn't he silenced with a threat, or a good punch to the face. He just never stopped, but there was something alluring about him. Perhaps it was that he really _wasn't_ an idiot. Maybe it was that he was mature – emotionless really – cold hearted even. Then there were the things that made Shizuo hate him. He stalked around the halls like the owned the school, but he nearly did. He possessed more information about his peers than the gossip girls did. Not that he would give it out, oh so freely like they did though. There was always a price to pay.

Izaya had always been smart. He knew how to turn the best of friends against each other and somehow get personal gain from their feud. Shizuo met him through his friend Shinra, who was also attracted to the charming Izaya by his possession of knowledge. Shinra's father was a scientist, and a damn good one at that. He wanted to follow in his father's footsteps – learn all that he could – and what a better way than to befriend the junior high gossip king.

So, all in all, Shizuo was somehow dragged into this, and was expected to 'play nice' with someone he resented. Of course, resentment wasn't all that was there, but that's the only emotion he would ever dare to acknowledge. Somewhere, deep in the back of his heart, there was something just as passionate as hatred, burning for Izaya.

Affection.

As months of his and Izaya's "friendship" passed, Shizuo began to understand this more and more. He _liked_ Izaya. It was the end of P. E. class when it hit him - hard. A basket ball to the gut, to be exact. Izaya's laughter was the first to fill his ears. He had been caught day dreaming, and now his gut was aching, and the class was laughing. This, of course, set him off. _How dare he laugh?_

To no one's surprise, this had sparked a fight between the two, and after breaking it up, the teacher made them stay longer for their disruption. By the time Izaya and Shizuo got to the locker room, the bell rang, and their peers escaped out the doors hurriedly. They stood in the empty room awkwardly.

Finally, Izaya moved to his locker while Shizuo stood in disbelieve, panting to regain the air he had lost hurling everything he could at Izaya. Somehow, the boy remained untouched. Although Shizuo was still thoroughly pissed, his eyes coasted down Izaya's slim figure slowly, hesitating on the hems of his gym shorts. Silently, he remarked on how thin Izaya's legs were – how soft they looked. He had to fight the urge to reach out and touch him. Shizuo continued to watch as Izaya dug into the depths of his locker. It was taller than he way by a few inches, forcing him onto his toes gracefully to reach the full extent inside. As he stretched, the bottom of his shirt came up, revealing more smooth, pale skin.

Izaya's eyes drifted over to Shizuo and he smirked. Although Shizuo tried to hide it by looking away, it was made painfully obvious by his flustered expression and the light blush that crept up on his cheeks, that he was checking Izaya out. With his heart slowly constricting in embarrassment, Shizuo glanced back at Izaya, who seemed to be waiting for this moment. He winked and went back to shuffling through his locker.

Shizuo swallowed. _What in the hell was that supposed to mean?_

Feeling a little uncomfortable, the blond pulled his shirt over his head. When he looked up, Izaya was staring right at him, smirking deviously, his shirt also discarded. Nervously, Shizuo glanced around. After assuring that the two were alone, he advanced on Izaya who met him half way. Their bodies brushed, just slightly, sending a ripple of sweet shivers up Shizuo's spine.

They stood like that for a moment – bodies mere centimeters apart – eyes level with each other's. Shizuo's hands traced up Izaya's chest delicately. He felt the other flinch and recoil slightly to the gentle touch of Shizuo's fingertips. A response Shizuo wasn't expecting. The sexual tension sky-rocketed. Izaya's cool hands came to rest on the blonds' waist. His heavy breathing was warm on Shizuo's face.

Their lips met – softly at first.

Shizuo became a mess of emotions at that moment. "Izaya," he murmured, his breaths coming in ragged pants. He wanted to kiss him again. No, he wanted to kill him. Or maybe he wanted to kiss him. Or perhaps do more. More than anything, his indecision was pissing him off. He just had to pick one and stay with it.

Finally, Shizuo kissed Izaya again, deeper this time. Izaya's hands slid up the other's back slowly, leaving a pleasant feeling everywhere they touched. Finally, they intertwined with Shizuo's feathery blond hair. It was then that Shizuo noticed how cold it was in the locker room – how comforting Izaya's warmth was. The selfish desire for more of this warm developed his subconscious. He wrapped his arms around Izaya's waist and pulled him a step closer.

Teeth sunk into Shizuo's lips in a painful way. He felt himself moan slightly, and, as Izaya's soft chuckle filled the silent air, he wished he could take it back, but Izaya's laugh was joyous – sincere. It was the first time Shizuo had ever heard such a thing escape Izaya's lips. He laughed too - softly, quietly, but still, it was a hallmark moment in his mind.

He would later look back at it with regret and sorrow and most of all, anger, but then, he treasured it like one might treasure an old picture or a sweet note from a lover.

"Shizu-chan." Izaya panted.

The sound of the locker room door opening interrupted them. The two stepped apart instantly, their cheeks flushed, and their hair messy.

"So, the lunch food…" Shizuo muttered, attempting to suppress the tension and awkward in the large, cold room. Goosebumps rose on his skin.

Izaya caught on instantly. "Gross, right?" He turned back to his locker and pulled out his clothes.

Since that day, Shizuo had an uneasy longing to be with Izaya, but Izaya never really talked to him. In fact, things continued as if nothing ever happened. Even the few times they were alone in the locker rooms again, no words were exchanged. There weren't any secret meetings as Shizuo had inwardly wished for. No notions that would ever mean anything more, but still, he _wanted_ Izaya.

Since that day, his passion for Izaya had flared up double the amount it once was. Both, his hatred and desire increased. Izaya had played with his heart. Izaya had tricked him – perhaps he just wanted to see the outcome. Perhaps he just wanted to see Shizuo in pain.

Since that day, Shizuo truly hated Izaya.

'A wounded heart will bleed ten times more than any surface wound'. Someone had told him that once, but by now, he had forgotten who those truthful words belonged to.

Zoning back into reality, Shizuo stumbled away, wiping aggressively at his mouth with the back of his hand. "Don't mock me." He said. His voice dropped to a deadly whisper. Something so venomous that it nearly sent shivers down Izaya's stone cold spine.

"Oh, Shizu-chan, don't tell me you forgot that day in gym class already?" Izaya approached again, leaning in so close that their noses almost touched.

Shizuo's response caught in his dry throat. He stepped away again, but the heel of his boot sunk into the soft mud of the lake. "W – What about it?" He choked out. He was cornered. Izaya had him cornered.

"So you _do_ remember it?" Izaya smirked.

"What about it?!" The blond's heart was pounding against the inside of his rib cage. He swallowed hard. Was he going to die here, at the edge of the city, on this grossly polluted lakeside, unsatisfied with the life he had been living up until now? Or was he going to succumb to much worse? Shizuo had never been more scared in his entire life. The horrible memories replayed themselves over and over again in his mind.

Izaya took a step away and chuckled deviously to himself, his knife spinning in his pale, slender fingers. "So you remember what we did that day?"

Shizuo remained quiet. Pain shot through his heart. No, if he was going to go down, he wanted to go with his pride intact. He swallowed again. "Don't make me relive it." The fury in his voice drained. His pride had almost deteriorated completely by then. It was a sinful thing to hold onto anyway.

Izaya's giggle filled the silence.

"If you're going to kill me will you just do it, already?!" His voice picked back up to a shout. His heartbeat was rapid – unsteady.

Again, Izaya was inches away from him. "Whoever said I was going to kill you, Shizu-chan."

Everything after that moment happened in slow motion in Shizuo's clouded mind. He watched dumbfounded as Izaya's knife plummeted to the soft, muddy ground. Both his fists balled around Shizuo's collar and pulled him the remaining distance. Their lips met in a fiery mess of tension and attraction. Shizuo grabbed Izaya's waist aggressively, holding them together. Izaya continued to grasp Shizuo's collar possessively as the kiss deepened.

Electricity pulsed through their bodies along with a desire that had lain dormant for many years. Shizuo pulled Izaya closer until their bodies were completely pressed together. Ecstasy overwhelmed his mind – only allowing mere thoughts of the aggressive lips he kissed through.

Finally, like a bullet train, the realization hit, and Shizuo pulled away from Izaya's mouth with a gasp. Izaya's cheeks were flushed in the most adorable of ways, but a smirk continued to play upon his lips.

"So you do remember." He said breathlessly.


End file.
